Train Travel

I am living a crash course in teaching my children how to be 'city people' after only living in a small city all their lives.  I don't know how to teach this.  I knew this would exist, but I didn't think it would fill our days as much as it does.  Especially with our six year old, but honestly, with both our children (ages 6 and 9 for one more precious month).

The train!  Oh the train.  It is our lifeline right now.  It is how we navigate our new world.  I have and will always love the train.  My favorite part of falling asleep and waking up in the stillness of the night and early morning is hearing the train rumble by my window.  I am so grateful that our first flat is one block from the station.  We are in a sleepy neighborhood.  No corner cafe.  Only kids in backpacks waiting for the bus and the elderly out for a morning stroll.  So, having the station one block away is a true treat.

One forgets after you learn something new that you had to learn it once in the first place.  So is teaching.  Right now,  we are teaching our kids the unspoken rules of train travel, how to read the signs, the maps, how to stand to one side and let out the people arriving, how to enter quickly and take a seat wherever available or stand and hold on.  Please hold on.  Please son, stop thinking your strength is mightier than the train.  Hold.  On.  Please move away from the drop off.  See this line? You must stay away from this line.  Please stop spinning, you will fall off.  Please stop spinning. STOP SPINNING.

Our sweet daughter loves to listen to people talking.  Please don't stare.  When the man started playing the guitar, she immediately reached for her purse to find coins.  How to teach your children when to give, when to save.  Who makes up these rules- so arbitrary.  And when you have a heart like my daughter's she would end up with no money very quickly.  And yes, I know we can travel with fruit or food to offer.  We will eventually.  Right now, we are learning.  All of us.  So much.

My son loves the movement of the train, loves when the train is crowded and everyone is standing and his body is supported by the crowd around him.  He loves the people.  Loves their smiles.  He is a person of this world.  People are immediately drawn to him.  He loves people and people love him. He will get through life on this and this alone if nothing else.

My husband and I speak to one another through our eyes from opposite sides of the train car.  We nod and gesture about which stop is ours.  I even fell in love with him a little the other day on an old U car.  He was standing there.  Tall.  Beautiful strong build.  Quiet.  Sincere.  Distinguished with his silvering hair and scarf wrapped around his neck like a true European.  I stood on my tippy toes, as I have to do, and I kissed him tenderly.

We are navigating every moment of every day.

When my daughter's tears started flowing on the train two days ago because she saw something that reminded her of her teacher in the U.S., a kind woman handed her a neatly folded tissue.

When my son smiled and waved to the Ethiopian men who sat across from him, the look in his eyes was, "I am known.  I am seen."  He asked me how I knew they were Ethiopian and we talked about their beautiful almond shaped eyes, their build, their language.  The clues that I understand but he hasn't yet.

When my husband starts unraveling a story about history to our children as we sit on a less crowded train and I watch as they lean into him, lingering on his words as he captures their attention.

This is why we are here.